Heaven Can Wait
by Gaylien-sparkles
Summary: Or, The Death and Times of Jill Valentine. A series of defining moments in the lives of Raccoon City's survivors and it's dead. Jillcentric Jill/Chris mostly
1. Jillian's Body

_"You're ugly but I'm starving  
He cuts you down from the tree  
He keeps you in a box by the bed  
Alive, but just barely"  
-Jennifer's Body (Hole)_

"Subject suffering multiple fractures, severe head trauma, severing of two major arteries, punctured or ruptured organs- lung and kidney. Subject remains stable after being put into stasis. Major surgery will be conducted when proper facilities are reached. Doctor Albert Wesker, 3:00 hours August 29th 2006."

**September 30th 1998**

"Ó meu bom Jesus perdoai e livrai-nos do fogo do inferno, levai as almas todas para o céu e socorrei as que mais precisarem de vossa infinita misericordia."  
Carlos knelt at the altar, the only illumination in the church was the flickering of prayer candles he had strewn about. The man had lived the last 30 hours off of communion wafers and wine. He saved the remnants of his canteen for the woman he'd placed on the altar.  
Jill was still now. He sighed in relief and wiped the condensation that had gathered on his brow, His eyes traced the woman's frame, she was beautiful but looked toxic at the moment. His eyes found themselves fixed on the bonds he had nailed to the wooden altar.  
"Jesus. I feel like some kinda sick fetishist." Carlos laughed bitterly.

Just as he admitted his embarrassment at the situation, Jill's convulsions started up again. The bound woman keened and took to gnawing at the restraints with fervour. Carlos sighed and stood. He felt helpless as he watched her mouth froth and glassy, dead eyes loll about in her skull.

**22:34 hours August 28th 2006**

"Fuck! She tried to bite me!" Ada jumped back clutching her hand.

"Put something in her mouth then while I tie her down." Wesker commanded.

Ada gave the snapping woman on the table a reproachful look before rifling through the various cupboards and drawers that lined the sides of the jet.

"I was thinking you could just use a shoe or your jacket or something." Wesker suggested quietly as he kept Jill in a headlock.

"Are you kidding?! I thought you'd at least understand that these shoes are Gucci and this jacket is Kenneth Cole. I am not letting your ex-employee-turn-enemy gnaw on my designer clothing." Ada scoffed.

Wesker rolled his cat irises behind his shades as he watched the slender mercenary tut irritably as she searched.

"Aha! Success." Ada held up her find.

A jar of pickles.

"She could choke, Ada."

"You did a pretty good job of that already. Another strike against Miss Valentine's mortality is the least of our worries. Our current worry is..." she grunted as she unscrewed the cap, "these pickles are probably stale."

Jill stopped trying to eat her captors and stared almost warily at them.

"Is she conscious or something? She looks like she can hear us." Ada asked.

"Medically speaking, she's a cadaver. Her pulse stopped about 45 minutes ago. Which is why you need to help me subdue her and get the bloody glass out before decomp sets in. Then, we can get her pulse going again." Wesker replied, taking the pickle from Ada's slippery hand and jamming it in Jill's mouth.

"Just pretend it's Redfield's." He muttered.

Zombie Jill seemed to be glaring at them.

"Can we put a bag over her head or something? She's really creeping me out."

"Alas. I need to see the flush return to her face." Wesker said as he strapped Jill into place on the gurney.

Performing surgery on a military-class jet is no small feat. Especially when the patient cannot be subdued, the surgeon has been the equivalent of retired for the past twenty years, and said jet is currently experiencing turbulence.  
"Do we have anymore alcohol?" Wesker asked from his back alley surgery station.  
"I thought you were removing glass, not embalming her." Ada snarked back.  
Wesker snarled at her, "Now. Wong. I tire of your constant insubordination."  
Ada knew when to play and when to 'shut the hell up because your boss is a superhuman bio-weapon'. She removed her jacket and rolled up her sleeves.  
"Here." She handed him the bottle.  
She watched Wesker cut away at damaged flesh and glass. Jill's clothing had been cut off prior to starting surgery by Ada. Wesker liked to give his victims as much respect as he felt necessary.  
Ada 'tsked', "Not fair. Even after falling ten storeys she has better tits-ballistics rather- than me." She shook her head and chuckled at herself.  
Wesker didn't look up from his work but she saw his lip twitch in either irritation or amusement.  
"Can we keep the commentary to a minimum please?" He asked.  
Wordlessly she passed him a pair of tongs to grab the largest piece of glass. Wesker latched the tool onto it and pulled with no avail. He sighed and put a little more strength into it, only to have the glass break and the pieces land on Jill; whom in turn gave a mournful groan.

"Okay. Done. We need a container." Wesker said whilst wiping his blood-soaked hands.  
"Like one of those T-Virus tubes? I'm pretty sure you made Nicholai dispose of the last ones on the jet the last time we used it."  
Wesker's shoulders sagged a little in what appeared to be exhaustion.  
"What do we have then?" He asked.  
"I'll check." The mercenary replied and exited the room.  
"Anything that can fit a human body!" He shouted after she had left.  
"'the hell're you two doing back there?" Came the muffled voice of HUNK from the cockpit.  
"The usual. Playing god and using the T-Virus to bastardize his creations." Wesker answered in his usual brutally honest manner.  
"Uhh... okay. We'll be arriving at destination in about fourty-five." The transmission ended.

"We have... a Tupperware tub." Ada announced lamely.  
"Any contents?" Wesker asked as he cleaned his sunglasses.  
"Sherry."  
"Sherry's here?" He furrowed his brow.  
"Yes, your Goddaughter just ninja'd herself onto our stealth plane because she felt like hiding instead of just asking to come along." Ada brandished and shook the bottle of liquor in front of his face.  
Never tease a predator.  
_Ninja isn't a verb.  
_His leather-clad hand reached out and snatched at Ada's arm with his hand. His face draws closer to hers in a snarl.  
"Miss Wong. I have had a very long day. As you may or may not know, falling from a fourth storey window off a cliff is not a fun experience. However, if you continue with your childish behaviour, you shall try it sooner than you expected to."  
The mercenary avoided his gaze and instead brought her attention to the sewn-up Jill Valentine. Ada looked around, "How do we plan to resuscitate her?"  
Wesker held up a pair of paddles.  
"Where did?!" She titled her head.  
"You should be grateful of these lucky paddles. Stopped you from flat lining in '01."  
"Aren't they a little... old?"  
"Get me the adrenaline from that cupboard please." He ignored her question.  
She followed the orders like a good dog.  
_Jar of adrenaline. 21 gauge syringe. 1 milligram needed. Inter-venous, applied every 3-5 minutes while performing CPR.  
_"You see, the T-Virus' effect manages to keep brain activity firing. Otherwise, this wouldn't work this long post-mortem." Wesker narrated as he warmed the paddles.  
"I need you to ready the Tupperware box." He added.  
"Are we still planning on pickling her?" His hesitant assistant asked.  
"When we get to the lab, yes. For now we'll just stuff her in."  
Ada winced and brought the bin. The woman then began searching the room for something a little more 'comfortable' for the naked, dead woman to slip into.

**23:14 hours**

Jill gasped and sputtered on the remnants of the pickle as her heart restarted. Her beach glass eyes whirled madly around at her surroundings.  
_Blonde. Sunglasses. Oh god no. Dead. Should be dead. Window. Chris!  
_"Motherfucker." She choked and heard a feminine chuckle from her left.  
Jill's vision went blurry and she lost consciousness, but not before hearing, "You could start a business in Tijuana if you keep this up."

Wesker picked up Jill bridal style. He made effort to wrestle her into the emergency blanket Ada had found tucked under a seat before placing her into the Tupperware bin. The pair stood in silence for a moment, neither quite believing the past hour had happened.  
"I'm going to check on our time." Wesker finally said, then added, "Stay here and keep an eye on our patient. Monitor her breathing."  
Ada shuffled the Jill-box over to one of the bench seats so she herself could collapse. The woman rubbed her eyes and laughed weakly.  
"I need a fucking vacation." Ada's eyes moved to Jill, "Just a little less than you do anyway."  
Jill gave a mournful groan.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  
There it is, the longest chapter I've written of a fanfic. Hopefully I'll actually finish this one. Creative crit and Reviews are always appreciated.


	2. Miles Adrift and Inches Away

_**Special thanks to Firechestnut for beta reading this puppy. AND FER BEING SHO SHUPPORTIVE.  
This one is for StripedTie 'cause she's awesome and demanded I write more.**_

Project Umbrella dates the second mansion incident and Spencer's death at August 1st. I hadn't read this when I made chapter one, and I haven't found any other sources saying this as an exact date... ah well. FANON!  
Also, there should be a difference in time zones due to the jet travelling to African airspace. I just didn't want to confuse my readers with the characters "suddenly going back in time". So, we're following it by internal clock.

_**  
**__Dead state I can feel the weight  
Light streaming in through an open grate  
Two thread score tearing up the floor  
Out in the alley with the trigger draw_

Numb hands I can see the strand  
Hold it together with a severed ban

Three lost years I've been crying here  
I'm over, I'm over, I'm over, I'm broken  
_Broken - UNKLE ft. Gavin Clark_  
****

Raccoon City Police Department March 16, 1996

She walks up the steps of the building and stares at the architecture for a moment. It is an impressive, imposing cement structure, she thought of it's likeness to a dungeon. _  
It is a Police station after all. Heh, never thought I'd end up back-bacon._  
Jill convinces herself that nine months is enough time for stress leave. She takes a deep breath and puts one hand on the double glass doors. She winces at the sickly looking woman staring back at her through sunken sockets. Her neck sticks out of her suit jackets like a skinny tree trunk from a flower pot, and her hair looks uneven in spots. Reluctantly, Jill enters the building.

Her shoes make a 'clop clop' noise on the granite flooring of the foyer. Jill cannot help but stare at the court-like appearance and is surprised that this is only a front for the rest of the money.  
"Someone at the RPD sure has coin." She muses. Across the room she enters a second pair of doors to find an elaborate fountain blocking her view of the main desk. She must look lost because a friendly-looking beat cop greets her with a smile.  
"Something I can help you with ma'am?" He asks.

"Uh, yeah. I'm looking for a man named Captain Wesker. Or whatever wing the Special Tactics and Rescue Service is in..."  
"You must be the new S.T.A.R.S recruit." There's something funny about the way he looks at her --as if he didn't expect this slight woman to be one of his new superiors.  
"I'm kind of the 'welcome committee' around here. My name's Marvin Branagh. I'll show you to your new office." He politely offers a hand to shake and Jill takes it.  
"Nice to meet you Marvin, I'm Jill Valentine."

Marvin leads her through a discombobulating series of hallways that outnumber rooms, many of which require a key-card or emblem to enter.  
"I can see why new recruits could get lost." She says.  
"Oh yes. Rumour has it that some of these hallways are haunted by the ghost of a rookie named Speedy. Speedy got lost while looking for the coffee machine... they found his body stuck on the roof. He was up there for four days before the custodian found him." Jill gives Marvin a head tilt and a stare.  
"Just kidding! You know, a little dark humour to break the ice. Welcome to Raccoon City, crime rate rivalling Vegas with only half the pop'."

Marvin opens the -she guesses- thirtieth door on their journey to another hallway. This one was mildly different than the others because it had windows that faced somewhat of an inner courtyard. The lights in the hall were a low-burning reddish yellow light, and said corridor seemed to be lacking any insane suits of armour or unnecessary mounted animals.  
As if reading her mind Marvin says, "Yes, we're out of Iron's main domain. Captain Wesker likes to keep his sector of the building relatively tidy. There's a few vending machines down the hall--across from the copy room."

The corporal walks her to the door marked "S.T.A.R.S". Marvin gives her a swift salute before turning around and disappearing into the maze of the RPD. Jill takes a deep breath and enters the room.

**African Umbrella Base 00:00 hours August 27th**

Wesker cracked his neck as his dexterous fingers danced across the keys of his laptop.  
"No offence Uncle, but you should take a shower and maybe get changed." Sherry said from her station across from him.  
He grunted in response, yet still took her advice and shut the machine.  
"I'll tell you if there's anything new to report. I've gotta wash the blood off of Miss Valentine and re-set her bones anyway."  
He stood there a moment, indecisive if he wanted to be present to check on Jill's condition.  
Sherry rose from her spot and moved to tap him on the shoulder, a brave move that none other than his goddaughter would dare do, she looked at him sternly over her glasses.  
"Listen to the pregnant lady. You stink like dead guy.... more-so than usual."

He left with his foot limping slightly. This detail doesn't go unnoticed, but Sherry knows it will heal soon. Rather, she's confused as to why he hasn't healed already. She'd talk to him about it later. Uncle Wesker didn't really have moods as much as he had different personalities. The current Wesker was "Cerebral Wesker" no talking-- much like "Cave Wesker", but with less smashing things.

Sherry was a "whistle while you work" gal. She did just this as she snapped on her gloves and entered the sterile room.  
Jill was set out a gurney in the centre of the room. Her body was coated in bruises and cuts, but as Sherry looked, she saw a few angry looking lines of torn flesh sew themselves together. The blonde raised an eyebrow and smirked in mad scientific curiousity.  
"Well, well, well. What's all this then?" She said whilst rubbing her hands together.

Sherry's first order of business was to clean the recently-deceased-cum-revived. She lifted the movable shower head and set the spray pressure to "low" and started with Jill's arms. The scientist was astounded by the amount of grime and blood that had caked itself onto the unconscious woman. Sherry paused in her cleaner to press "record" on audio note taker.  
"Note to self. Add anti-biotics to Subject's tanks, infection due to unsanitary surgery strong suspected." Click. Stop.  
_"Tsk, tsk Uncle."  
_She made quick work of removing the bluck (bloody muck as she referred to it). Sherry checked the film in the camera she used for autopsies. It wasn't the first time she'd documented someone who was 'only mostly dead', but Jill's case seemed special. The doctor couldn't quite put her finger on it and chose not to dwell too long on the subject.

Two full-length body shots. Boom! Head-shot. Different angles of the bruised trachea. Arms --multiple fractures to the radius and ulna of the right arm, left arm fractured humerus. Chest cavity with a 'Y' cut and sewn into it. She noted the fractured ribs and organ damage sustained. Compound fracture to the right femur. She gagged a little, then watched in scientific awe as the skin knit itself together over the re-set bone.  
"Interestink. Vewwy interestink." She mused in her best Dr. Strangelove impression.  
Sherry bit her lip as she noted her discovery. Thoughts of pity and revulsion shuddered through her, but as always, science marched ahead of all else. The pregnant doctor rubbed her unborn child absently as she decided to notify her godfather about this development.

Sherry washed her hands of guilt and any possible contagions. Jill Valentine was just another experiment for their cause. A Queen song came unbidden into her mind.  
_"Another one bites the dust." _The doctor chuckled as she pushed the gurney toward the "pickle room", put bluntly it was know as "The room with all the creepy dead thing tubes".

**Raccoon City**

Her first observation of the STARS office is that there is a lack of desks. Cushy office chairs are pushed into surfaces haphazardly and the remnants of a potted plant wilt next to the printer. The desk adjacent to her has a mess of fishing lures and a customized air force jacket stuck to the wall. She is surprised that such a world class task force is so informal. At the end of the room is a glass-windowed door that reads "S.T.A.R.S. Captain Wesker." Squashed next to said door is a long desk with a clear division down the middle and two personal computers piled onto either side. The men working at the desk don't seem to notice her. The pair are a contrast, one is large with short blonde hair, the other is sqaure-ish with thick black hair. Her assessment of the office is cut short by a throat clearing from behind her. A man wearing a yellow vest blushes as she turns to face him.

"Excuse me, but, I need to get through." He says.  
The man has thick auburn hair brushed back from his temples in light curls. His stature is round enough to show indulgence, but not obesity. He's older than her by a few years, but has some endearing childish quality to him. The man squirms uncomfortably under her blue gaze.  
"I'm sorry. That was rude of me, block your way, then eye you like a mouse." Jill hopes to pardon her mistake to her new co-worker.  
Their conversation has caught the attention of the room's other occupants. The men at the desk turn to stare.  
"Chickenshit Vickers is even scared of skinny rookies." The blonde one announces with a grin.  
Jill turns to glare at him and feels her ears turn hot in instant dislike. Before she can inform the man of his douchebaggery, the door next to his desk clicks open to reveal a man whom Jill assumes to be Captain Wesker.

"Miss Valentine, you're earlier than expected. Please, come in." The man is polite, but his face seems closed. Like a photograph taken from a distance, blurry.  
She enters the office and sees it too is free of wacky statues or creepy paintings. Instead the decor is more formal, though self-appraising and impressive. His many awards and merits line the walls while his desk is kept clinically pristine.

Jill's attention fixes on the man himself. His blonde hair is pushed up towards the crown of his head, like a mohawk... but not. Jill can't think of the words to explain it, other than it must take a lot of time to style in the morning. The most permanent part of the man's ensemble are a pair of perscription sunglasses which he removes for politeness. She'd never have pegged him as a man with green eyes, but there they are. Like cool, clear beach glass, they failed to reflect the polite smile and friendly hand the man offered.  
"I'm your new Captain, Albert Wesker. Most just call me Wesker." There is a hint of disdain in his voice.  
She shakes his hand firmly and takes a seat in front of his desk.

The man gets down to business and pulls her file out from his desk. He skims the pages before giving her a brief questioning.  
"It says here you specialise in bomb diffusion." He sounds impressed.  
"Yes, though to be honest it isn't as complicated as the movies make it sound. There's no red wire/blue wire decisions. It's more like Operation, don't touch the sides while you yank out all the wires. Because, any wire will likely cut the power supply if tugged properly."  
He "hmns" in response as if she has passed some sort of test.  
"You've requested to be paired with a partner?" He asks and for the first time his emotion matches his eyes, they're almost amused for some reason.  
"Yes, I feel more at ease when there's a determined 'you watch my back, I'll watch yours' dynamic."  
He nods, "You'll be partnered with Christopher Redfield. He's also ex-military and pretty close to you in age."  
"Keeping your younglings in one basket?"  
"In a matter of speaking." His smile is predatory and it scares her.

Wesker leads her on a tour of the STARS facilities. He starts by taking her to get her uniform.  
"Dress code is white shirt, brown combat trousers, vest of division's colour... and one personal item. You're our branches first female officer, so a design oversite will have you wearing a men's uniform. I hope you don't mind." He says nonchalantly.  
The vest he hands her is blue, she doesn't ask why it's blue and not yellow like the 'Chickenshit' man she now knows as 'STARS pilot Brad Vickers'. She isn't complaining, but the different coloured vests confuse her. She wonders if it's a "Trekkie thing".

Next location is the gym and shower rooms, here she meets Barry 'The Double-B' Burton. A fatherly fellow with lumberjack-esque facial hair and a ponch. Jill instantly likes Barry, but does not underestimate the man. According to the captain, he's a gun buff whom carries a regular hand cannon on missing cat cases.  
As she leaves she hears him remark to really no one in particular, "That girl looks in need of a sandwich."  
Jill frowns, but walks on as if she hadn't heard.

Firing shots can be heard as they near the shooting range. Jill absent-mindedly brushes a hand through her short brown hair, she wishes it were longer. Alas, she starts work looking like a butch stereotype. Well, minus the plaid anyway.

Speaking of stereotypes, she surpressed a giggle as she looked at the two men at the shooting range. The closer one is shirtless except for his vest, and has clearly never been in contact with the fashion police about rules and conduct. Seriously? A mullet AND a cowboy hat?

The latter male is sturdy-looking and has a similar patchy hairstyle to her own. His build reminds her of a corn-fed redneck and his colour certainly matches. As he turns to glimpse his captain she sees his face. He's kinda cute... in a homely farm boy way. The man drops his gun and prods his mulleted companion.

"Whassamatter 'Topher? Givin' up already?" The mulleted man asks.  
Wesker clears his throat and the man removes his ear muffs.  
"Well, howdy there boss. Who's your lady-friend?" She places his accent as pleasantly southern, perhaps played up in mixed company. Louisana maybe?  
"This is Jill Valentine, our new sub-ordinate. Redfield, say hello to your new partner." Wesker commands.

The man wipes his face with his right hand, then realising his mistake, holds out his cleaner left hand for Jill to shake. He gives her a very serious face as she takes his hand and he ducks his head closer to hers. She is admiring the shade of his blue-grey eyes when he asks,  
"Do you believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?"  
Jill regards Chris for a moment, she is almost confused with his statement and pauses before answering.  
"I want to believe."

Clearly, this is the correct response, because her partner's serious face cracks into a grin.  
"Hey boss, I finally found me another X-Files fan!"  
Wesker rubs his temples.

Jill found herself in a state of half-consciousness. Just remembering things from long ago. She smiled at the memory. They say that when you meet the love of your life time stops. For Jill it didn't, time just finally slowed down enough for her to feel like she had gained control in her life. Later, the others told her that from the moment she and Chris met, they were off in their own little world.  
"Y'all're like two peas in a pod, two seeds in a joint. And that's pretty tight for two partners to be."

_**Yes, I realise that I altered the S.T.A.R.S office a little. Honestly, the Capcom design is really crowded, so I gave Wesker his own office, and added the Edward/Kevin desk. **_

_**As always, reviews are strongly appreciated.**_


End file.
